Kids
by kc creation
Summary: A single red and yellow polka-dot cup sends Hiroki's sturdy, organized life tumbling down.


**Kids**

Lights click overhead. They blink and shutter noisily above the gurgled cries of an unruly infant and the gentle hum of an annoyingly upbeat pop song.

Hiroki scowls. For the life of him, he can't recognize the song or even the nasally vocalist. He feels the last of his youth run through his fingertips as he realizes that he's become out of touch with popular music. He wonders how long it will be before he hears all of his favorite tunes blaring in elevators wherever he goes.

He sends Nowaki an uneasy glower, although it is lost on the tower of a man who hums lightly, obviously familiar with the music and oblivious that his lover is not. His giant fingers brush against Hiroki's sweater-clad back and the professor feels his skin crawl.

Through gritted teeth, in a murmur that's not far from a growl, he warns the younger man to keep his hands to himself. Nowaki chuckles good-naturedly. Although his eyes, Hiroki can't help but notice, reflect the slightest inklings of sadness, disappointment, or both. He wants to chase those feelings away, but honestly, chasing has never been his forte and he's sure Nowaki knows this.

Nowaki's big, strong legs are better built for such a thing after all.

The mutters of random patrons do nothing for his confidence either, and he's absolutely positive that Nowaki won't have the heart to blame him if he's a bit uncomfortable being _molested_ in public.

His fingers tremble against the cold plastic handle of the cart that squeaks incessantly in his grasp. It's a sticky, distasteful shade of crimson and it takes everything he has not to thrust it away from himself and bathe in disinfectant.

"Hiro-san!"

Nowaki's voice is a burst of youth, absent of any remaining upset and devoid of animosity. Hiroki wonders if there was ever a time when he was so innocent. (Although, he muses, lamenting on the countless sleepless nights the man has forced him to endure; he isn't exactly the picture of innocence.)

"What is it, Nowaki?"

He draws out, feigning annoyance in hopes of throwing off the various shoppers who are eying the two of them warily. His voice ends up coming out low and husky, as he struggles to squelch out every last ounce of affection.

Nowaki sends him a look that he usually only receives in the bedroom, one of want and longing and the promise of lovemaking when they return to their apartment, and he realizes in hindsight that he shouldn't have nearly_ moaned_ the man's goddamn name.

Regardless of his fretting, Nowaki seems to forget the moment quickly and instead presents his find: a tiny red and yellow polka dot cup. It's dwarfed in his sizable palms, and more than ever before, he resembles the gentle giant that he's gradually come to embody. Hiroki struggles to stifle a laugh.

"That's a child's cup."

He speaks instead, plucking the tiny thing from his lover's grasp.

"Can't you tell? It has a built-in straw."

Nowaki's answering smile is strange. His eyes glaze over with something that Hiroki isn't sure he likes. His face is bathed in a joyous flush, a glow almost, as he pulls the cup from Hiroki's hold as gingerly as his large, clumsy fingers can muster.

"Well, actually, I've been thinking lately…"

He replies, voice soft in the hustle and bustle of the department store. He places the cup back onto the rickety shelf with its sisters and brothers. His eyes burn with hope.

It takes Hiroki only a moment longer to realize that they're standing in the baby supplies isle. He wonders why his lover led them there.

And then, like the flipping of a switch, the bigger realization hits him.

"No, absolutely not!"

He screeches, flying as far from the isle as quickly as he can; as is Hell itself is on his heels.

"We're not having a baby! We can't! It's not anatomically possible!"

Nowaki's laughter is musical as he follows not far behind, taking his sweet time as his heavy hands take residents in the tight confines of his jean pockets.

"Of course we would adopt." He reasons, "I think you would make a great mother, Hiro-san!"

He has to be joking, Hiroki seethes. He has to know how deep of a grave he's digging himself into. He fights down the debilitating urge to rip the man to shreds.

"Of course I'd put a ring on your finger first! And I'd have to meet your parents!"

Hiroki swears on the life of his never-to-be-born child that he will never shop with his whimsical lover again, and if Nowaki thinks he's getting any when they return home, he has another thing coming!

…Of course, when they _actually_ arrive home, he remembers one tiny detail that must have slipped his mind:

Nowaki always gets his way.

_Fin._

_I have a notebook that I write all of my work in, and it's very generic, as to not attract unwanted attention. (e.g.: "What are you writing?" "Uh, gay porn?") This story actually filled the very last couple of pages. So, my New Year's resolution will be to stay healthy and fill another notebook!_

_Please feel free to tell me what you thought of this, and if you'd like, I'd love to hear what your resolution will be!_

_Happy New Year!_


End file.
